


Things to Come

by Eilwen



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aging, F/M, Growing Old Together, Married Couple, Memories, Newt and Tina's son, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9134773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilwen/pseuds/Eilwen
Summary: Newt and Tina's son does not know yet of love, of pain and of time. For now, he experiences what would be considered his first memory: clinging to his mother's fingers, watching his father stand at the edge of a fjord cliff, looking for a creature below.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year.

My father was born in 1897. He told me that his first memory was during the turn of the century. His mother had taken him and his brother to celebrate the new year with a Hippogriff in Scottish Highlands, even though none of them were Scottish. The Hippogriff was one of his mother’s and she had told him that a change of scenery consistently would create a change of heart, in a good way. He walked the hills, with his thumb in his mouth, not knowing of the future ahead of him. He did not know as yet that he was a wizard and not a muggle, because magic was just something in his everyday life – magic versus non-magic were not concepts as yet. He did not know yet that he would develop a love for creatures, mostly of the magical kind. He did not know yet of war, of kings who will cause scandal, then kings who will die, of demons in the shape of wizards who choose to terrorise. The entire century was laid out before him and all he had cared about with the grass that he had picked that day.

My father had taken it upon himself to do the same for me. My first memory is somewhere in the Norway, from high up looking down into the fjords, even though none of our family members are Norwegian. We are on the lookout for something monstrous beneath the waters. I will wonder if my father had hoped to imbue within me the same love that he has for creatures. My father travelled a lot during his youth, but it was never for pleasure. He travelled to find creatures, to save creatures, and eventually to visit my mother. I will never suck my thumb. I have my mother’s eyes and when I grow, I will have a preference for mustard with my foods, more so than ketchup. I will care for magical creatures, but I will never have the same affection for them as my father did. I will grow up around them after all, so maybe the novelty will never be present. My mother will say that it is because I am more like her instead and that’s all right.

My mother was born in 1901. Her first memory is of her sister: Queenie Goldstein, weighing 8.5 lbs with shocking gold hair. My mother said how she knew that she would love Queenie forever from the moment she saw the baby. She was too young to hold Queenie, so she clung to her mother’s arm to constantly peek at the child. She attended Ilvermorny and she will comment to my siblings, that Ilvermorny is so much better than Hogwarts. My father would disagree. My loyalty will fully be with Hogwarts, but after reading about their houses, I will consider their sorting process to be less… definitive, and much more diplomatic (but do not tell anyone).

My mother’s second memory is of her grandparents who have had no real influence in her life but their image is imprinted in her brain.

She will cry when Rappaport’s law is repealed in 1965. I will be by her side, sympathetic but not knowing exactly how important this moment is in history. She will say that because of this law, she never bonded with her grandparents as she is a half-blood and wizards and muggles (No-Maj’s, as she calls them) were never allowed to bond. I will sit with her as she cries with the newspaper in her hands. She will write a long, long letter to Auntie Queenie and tie it to our owl and sit all day by the window. She will receive a response almost too quickly and she will cry again. She will never tell me of the letters’ contents.

That same year, my father will create the ban on Experimental Breeding in Britain. My father would consider this a singular moment in his life. He is not a man who takes pleasure in his own successes, but on that day, I will see him return home with an unusual smile on his face. The newspaper the next day will have his picture – not the first time, but my mother will cut out the article and it will be pinned on our refrigerator, next to our drawings of gnomes and mermaids. My father and my mother will decide to return to New York City temporarily to reunite with my mother’s side of the family. It will be a very good year for them.

It will be the first time they go on an airplane. When they return, my mother will comment on how different the city is. New York changes incredibly fast. She will remark on how the brownstone where she and Auntie Queenie lived in during their 20’s is now being rented out by a wealthy family. Mrs. Esposito, her landlady will have unfortunately passed. She will say that the city is getting taller and the crime is getting worse, but there’s an influx of some strange happiness. Like everyone will be aware of things to come.

My father will spend hours in his creatures, sometimes forgetting about dinner. He will teach me about every beast that somehow ends up in our yard. My mother would argue with him about why is there a dragon in our front yard, Newt?! My father will bring in creatures into the kitchen and I will eat dinners with Murtlaps climbing onto the table and I will lose my first watch to a Niffler. I will be scared of the thunder and crawl into my parents’ bed, sandwiched between the two. My mother will comment that underneath in all I’m a Thunderbird so I have to learn to love the changing weather, from the sunny days to the terrible storms. I will pretend I can control the weather and will the sunny days to stay sunny forever. I will not know until later that this is a reference to her house in Ilvermorny.

My siblings and I will attend Hogwarts and disappoint our father when we don’t end up in Hufflepuff. I will fancy a girl in my year and get upset when it turns out she didn’t return the same feelings. My father will say that first loves are painful but necessary and I will believe him. Most of my classmates will marry those in our school, but I will find love elsewhere when I grow older, as my father did. We will celebrate Christmas at Hogwarts but I will always receive a letter from my mother during Hanukkah.

As I grow, I will be temperamental at some point, as teenagers usually are. My mother will be frustrated with me and we will frequently argue. My father will say how I’m too much like her, which would infuriate me even more. I will watch my father write further editions for his books, adding in new creatures, new facts and the book will get thicker and thicker with each edition. He will get excited over new creatures, and get angry with me when I try to attack our Kneazle. My parents will get new Kneazles and I will hate every single one of them. I will have a rebellious period and I will think my parents do not understand me.

I will grow up, annoyed at my father’s fame. Annoyed when I have to have a copy of the book for school. My father will give me his personal copy (because he’s not paying a single Knut for a book that  _he_  wrote) and I will get teased at school for it. I will throw his book in the bin, and then retrieve it out of guilt. I will watch all his personal scribblings on the side - reminders of what to add in future additions. The book will one day accidentally open on a certain page where he and my mother have written cute hello’s to me. I will think it’s ridiculous but keep the book with me, even after I graduate.

My professors will remember my father and comment on how much of a troublemaker he was, even though I know deep in my heart he wasn’t really. But I will not have evidence because they will remind me of his expulsion. He would say that it was a necessary expulsion for an accident. My mother would say he should not have been expelled for they do not expel good men. I will consider him with the label of ‘father’. But somehow, I will still hear about my parents’ heroic deeds that they never boast about, come to appreciate them and I will be present when my father receives the Second Order of Merlin.

Popular wizard music will follow closely with muggle music. Wizards will have their own evolution of rock and roll, of pop and of hip-hop. My parents will be open to this… to some degree, but I will catch my mother dancing to jazz when she thinks no one is looking. I will sneak out of our house during summer holidays to visit friends and attend concerts, thinking I am so cool because I’m only a teenager yet everyone around me is older and more mature and I will sneak up to my boring room in my boring house when the sun is rising, not knowing my dad, already awake, will be watching me climb up.

My parents will watch generations talk about peace and love, then disco. They will witness American presidents change while the British Queen ages. They will watch Grindelwald fall and Voldemort rise. They will talk about a baby who somehow saved the Wizarding community. They will watch our fashions change – from hippie clothing and bell-bottomed jeans to spandex. They will watch Wizards get involved in Muggle affairs, of muggle men walking on the moon, of walls being broken down in Germany, of these strange new boxes called computers. They will also watch Wizarding Wars being fought, the first and second Order of the Phoenix being formed. My mother’s attention will be on US politics, despite living for many years in England. My father will be less interested in politics in general, but he will tell me stories of his time at the Ministry of Magic, and about British politics that I did not know he knew.

My parents will gain wrinkles, feel their bodies sag, watch each other’s hair turn white and they will love each other still and hold hands when they walk. I will watch my parents grow old and witness the world around us get old. I will watch them fall more and more in love with each other each year and more and more in love with us. My mother will kiss my forehead every night, even when I’m an adult and only visiting for the weekend. I will watch my parents’ hands get weak and my father retire because he cannot do strenuous activities anymore and my mother will still make him tea and they will still talk as if they’re discovering something new about each other, even though by then they would have spent more years in their lifetime together than apart. They will talk about travelling again, like they used to when they were younger.

I will have a son named Rolf and not know what to do with him. I will hope that I give him a good first memory. For now, my parents and I are here at the top of the fjord, in a cheap canvas tent with patches, and a suitcase. I cling to my mother’s fingers as my father bravely stands at the edge of the cliff. My mother wears layers of smart clothing. My father is a little more spontaneous and foolish in a blue coat. The white snow melts where the lantern is. The canvas tent shakes with the wind. It should be dangerous but my parents protect us with a few spells. We never see that creature, but we see the northern lights decorate the sky.

That is my first memory.


End file.
